S2 Episode 01: The Whispering Sand
by firebreathingfishies
Summary: Logan Baxter has a very bad morning. Scratch bad - more like horrific. He just wants to forget about it, but a peculiar man in a pinstripe suit doesn't appear to want him to.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hi. Again. Long timey no writey here, so apologies for that. Just with the lack of Doctor Who I haven't had much inspiration, and I couldn't seem to get another chapter of 'Legion' out, even though I was probably happier with that prologue than this one :s Anyways I am back, and even though I've given it the whole 'I promise I'll keep writing it' before I really mean it this time. I've got the DW bug back, so yay for that :D**

**I can't think of much more to write here, so I'll just get on with introducing Logan Baxter :D

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**Prologue**

It must be said that there is something invigorating about running barefoot across hot sand with the sun only just rising over the horizon, even if it is quite a clichéd moment. The cool, salty sea air drying out the light perspiration on your neck and forehead, the warmth that seeps through your toes and welcomes each landing footstep by pulling you down into the golden sand, challenging your calf muscles. The faint squawking of waking seagulls, crying out for no other reason other than that they can.

I suppose if you had no worries then this would be a wonderful way to start the day. Also I imagine it would help if it was a nice beach, like Palm Beach or Horseshoe Bay or something like that. Wonderfully invigorating.

Not so much when you are being chased by five angry, baseball bat toting men and dressed only in your underpants and a t-shirt on a beach that is littered with all sorts of vile rubbish. That's not so much invigorating as, well… terrifying.

Logan Baxter was still gripping onto his jeans and trainers, despite the fact one trouser leg was hanging down and threatening to trip him up at any moment. The sand pulled on him, causing him to lurch and stumble unsteadily and his steaming hang over wasn't helping matters much either. The five men behind yelled various unnerving insults and threats, but he tried to block them out, concentrating solely on reaching the far end of the beach and maybe getting up onto the street and out of this nightmare.

He couldn't even remember what he had done to rile these people up so much. Although it wasn't as if he was the kind of person to never annoy anyone, he was pretty much well known for getting himself into situations that he could have easily avoided just by opening his mouth at the wrong time, but usually he remembered what he had done. This morning he had woken up on the back seat of his car that was still parked up the beach somewhere, trouser-less and surrounded by beer cans and with five rough faced thugs peering in at him.

They had started by trashing the car, smashing it mercilessly with their bats. Logan had struggled blearily into the front seat and started the engine, getting about a hundred yards before the engine died. He had stumbled out, grabbed his things and started running. His pursuers didn't even have the decency to inform him to why they were going to cave his head in. Something told him that it wasn't just a random act.

'The more you run the more you'll bleed!' a manic voice bellowed at him.

Logan winced. Was that supposed to make him stop running? He pushed himself harder, despite his throbbing head and aching body. Looking around he knew he wasn't going to make it to the sandy ramp that lead up to the roadside. Once he was up there he had a good idea of where he could go; behind the arcade, up the fire escape and then hop back down into the bushes behind. It would be a hard fall but he could hide out in the park until they finally gave up looking for him. But they were advancing on him quickly and while he was on the beach, he had no chance.

He decided to take a short cut, taking a drastic change of direction by taking a sharp right and running straight for the concrete wall that ran around the beach. It was about seven feet high, and Logan himself was about six feet high. In theory he could easily haul himself over the wall, but he didn't take into account his sheer exhaustion. He reached the wall and threw his belongings over it, then tried to vault after them. His arms refused to take his weight. He risked a glance over his shoulder and whimpered pathetically at the sight of five furious psychopaths practically close enough to spit on him. He tried vaulting again and this time his arms decided the situation was perilous for them to help out a little, but it was too little too late and Logan felt a rough hand grab the back of his t-shirt and haul him backwards. He stumbled, lost his footing, and landed hard on his back. He lay there, dazed, and then looked up to see the men standing over him, some with the bats balanced on their shoulders and others smacking them threateningly in the palms of their hands.

Logan, knowing he was now up shit creek without a boat, raised his hands and decided to do what he did best. Beg. 'Please don't beat on me,' he whined, pathetically. 'Whatever I did, I'm sorry okay? I… If I said something to one of you I was probably drunk, I've been drinking a lot lately, 'kay? I'll make it up to you. I… I can work stuff! Yeah I can do some running around and stuff, I'm good at that. Just ask Tommy Reynolds, you know him? Yeah give him a call and I'm sure…' He interrupted himself with a yelp and wrapped his arms around his head as he saw one of the bats come out.

It didn't hit home though.

Logan peered out from behind his arms to see that the bat had hit the sand just above his head. He peered nervously at the man behind the bat. He was broad and stout, with dark skin and flat features. He squatted down, pushing his scarred, grimacing face down towards Logan's. His breath smelled of stale cigarettes and something horrid that could possibly be some kind of gum infection. His black hair was shoulder length and looked like it hadn't been washed for a long time. Something told Logan that this man probably wouldn't think twice about smashing him into the sand.

'Do you know who I am?' he demanded in a raspy voice.

Logan blinked and shook his head. 'No.'

The Neanderthal like man raised the bat so it rested on his shoulder. 'You know Betty Vance?'

Logan tried to search his memory for the name, but his terrified state wouldn't allow him. He shrugged and shook his head. 'I uh… I don't… I don't think so?'

'Wrong answer!' the monster snarled, bringing the bat down again. He felt a rush off air on his scalp as the bat slammed into the sand again. He let out a terrified whimper. 'Try again!'

'I don't…' Logan whined. 'I can't…'

'_You know my sister!'_ the man screamed in a voice that should only be heard in the elevator descending into Dante's Inferno and pulled the bat back over his head again. 'Don't you lie to me!'

Logan curled his arms around his head and let out a rather unmanly squeak. Usually it would have mortified him immediately, but the way he sounded wasn't really his main priority right now.

'My baby sitter, my little princess sister calls me up in the middle of the _night_!' he yelled, knuckles white around the wooden bat. 'Crying her eyes out and wailing about some _man_. Some _man_ who took her for all she was worth! Cleaned her out! Took her god damn money and jewellery and _split_. But she didn't care about that though, she was too busy going on about how her _heart_ was broken. Four years and you go and pull a stint like that? I should do more than beat your head into the sand you dirty little...'

Logan frowned from behind his hands and tuned out the terrifying profanities that poured out of his attackers' chapped lips. Okay, so he didn't have the best memory in the world, but he would be pretty sure if he had been seeing a girl called Betty Vance for four years who had a brother as monstrous as this. And also if they shared the same genes it was unlikely that she would be a looker. A wave of relief washed over him. This was just a case of mistaken identity.

'That's not me!' he cried desperately. 'I don't know her I swear! I... I'm Logan Baxter! I live up in B-Circuit! I work on the construction site! I don't even _have_ a girlfriend, man! I haven't had one for years!'

The men stared down at him, a mixture of annoyance and bewilderment crossing their dumb faces. After several excruciating moments, the scorned brother glanced around at his cronies.

'What did she say his name was?' he asked quietly.

One of them shrugged. 'Urm... Ket. Or Kit. I dunno.'

'I'm pretty sure it was Kit.' Another piped up.

'Nah I thought it was Kat.' A third added.

'See?' Logan insisted desperately. 'That sounds nothing like Logan! You got the wrong guy!' He started to push himself up. 'No hard feelings, eh?' he chuckled nervously. 'I'll just be on my way. And I promise I won't tell anyone that you're lurking around with those... nice... big bats of yours. I'll keep quieter than a mute in a library I swear. I just--'

A heavy boot landed hard on his chest, making him wheeze and pinning him back down on the sand. 'Do you think I'm an idiot?' Betty Vance's brother snarled, tapping himself on his huge chest with the bat. 'You think by you giving me a fake name I'll just let you skip off home?' His top lip curled back and he straightened up. 'I'm going to do more than give you a warning, kid. I'm going to _kill_ you.'

'I'm not lying!' Logan wailed, panic engulfing him again. 'I have my drivers licence! Wait! Just...' He looked around for his jeans but then remembered throwing them over the wall. 'It's in my pocket! Just let me get it and-'

'Screw this.' One of the cronies snorted. 'Just do it already.'

They all moved in, rearing back their bats.

'Please! I'm not this Kat or Kit or whatever! I... _please_!'

He curled up into the foetal position, waiting for the inevitable reign of blows to shower down on him. Well how was this for a great week? And to end it by getting killed because of some loser who couldn't treat his girlfriend right. And when these men realised that they _had_ got the wrong guy, they probably wouldn't batter an eyelid anyway. Fantastic. Just goddamn fan—

A sound made him flinch. A _whumph_. Initially he figured it was the bat hitting the sand, but then he realised it was far too loud for that. He risked a glance out between his fingers, expecting to see Betty Vance's sibling glaring down at him, but he wasn't there. His cronies were there, looking extremely confused, but their leader was nowhere to be seen.

Logan propped himself up and glanced around. His eyes finally settled on where the bulk of a man had been standing. Instead of footprints in the sand there was a dip, the sand sliding down into it like a small sinkhole. Logan stared at it. The guy was big but surely not big enough to sink in dry sand that quickly...

The next time it happened he saw everything. Thin black vines shot up out of the sand and wrapped tightly around the ankles of the lackey to Logan's right. All of the men looked at them in silent confusion, and then seconds later the lackey was quickly whipped out of sight. Right before his greasy head disappeared under the sand, he managed to release a terrible scream.

This got everyone moving. In a chorus of confused and frightened bellows, the lackeys took off across the beach, now completely unconcerned with Logan. Not wasting a moment, Logan scrambled to his feet and turned to the wall behind him. If the lackeys had done the same thing instead of taking off across the sand, they probably would have stood a chance. But stupidity and panic aren't a good mix, and Logan wasn't about to tell them otherwise.

He vaulted the wall easily this time and scrambled to gather his belongings. As if mocking him his drivers licence slipped out of his pocket and landed on the pavement, but he didn't pick it up. His brain screamed at him to run, to get away from that beach as fast as he could, especially when he heard two more awful screams coming from the beach. But curiosity made him turn and look. And he looked just in time to see the last lackey get whipped out of sight by the glistening black vines.

Or were the tentacles? He could have sworn he saw suckers.

He didn't allow himself to think about it. Heart thudding in his chest and sweat pouring from his brow, he sprinted across the road, past the arcade, and anywhere that was far from sand.


	2. Nosing Around

**A/N: What what no way, I know you're thinking. It's been like, what, a year? Madsauce is what it is :P I apologise for my negligence. It's disgraceful. But I'm back after feeling crap for repeatedly abandoning everything I start and still get really nice comments from lovely and apparently very patient people. Please take into account that I haven't written for ages, and this chapter hasn't even been proof read (/me punts self) so any major mistakes/typos I'm sorry. **

**But, y'know... points for effort right xD

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**Chapter One**

**Just Nosing Around**

Logan's soup was cold. Cold and slimy. Gross, in other words. Small, unidentifiable particles floated around in the murky liquid, glistening slightly under the artificial light above. There was a hair there too, a small fine one. A bit too fine to come from a person, which meant it wasn't quite so bad. Probably from some upholstery. Got caught up in the air and then decided to make its home in the slop in the bowl before him. At least something was enjoying it. But then again even if he had a plate of delicious gourmet food in front of him he still probably wouldn't touch it. His stomach wasn't responding well to food recently. It hadn't been responding too good since... well...

"...start paying rent if you're in for the long haul..."

Logan's ears reluctantly pricked and he dragged his eyes away from his bowl. Seeing the other two faces around the table looking at him he realised that the conversation was directed at him. "Uh... huh?" he finally managed.

Logan's father was a big man. Not obese or unhealthy in anyway – in fact he was the opposite. At fifty six cycles Logan Baxter Senior was at his prime. Solid muscle, smooth skin, thick brown hair on his head and a full beard that housed flecks of ginger. The only thing that gave away his age was his hands. But they could be passed for working man's hands. Calloused and rough, lines of veins like roads on a map. The guy was not a guy anyone messed with. And he was a guy who didn't like being ignored.

"What's wrong with you, Junior?" Dad boomed, glowering at his son disapprovingly. "You got your head way up in the clouds since you decided to move back here. What do you think I was saying to you?"

Logan paused, knowing he couldn't really shrug this off. The last thing he had wanted was to move back in with his parents, not since he had managed to secure such a decent flat, but the view from his bedroom window looked out onto the sea. More precisely, the beach. And Logan couldn't really stomach looking out onto that beach anymore. Not since... well...

A thick strong finger poked Logan in his shoulder. "I'm talking to you, boy."

"Rent, I know, I know," Logan managed to blurt out. "Don't worry I'll pay my way." He cleared his throat and went back to prodding at the soup. "And I won't be staying for long I swear I just... It's just until I can get somewhere else sorted out."

"What's wrong with your flat?" Logan's mother enquired in her soft, caring voice. His mother was the polar opposite to his father; petite and fragile, and certainly starting to look her age. Greys were starting to show through her mousey hair and lines circled her eyes. She was still an attractive woman, she was just moving out of her prime. She did so gracefully though, like she did everything. "I think it's a wonderful flat. Especially for the location. I'd love a place by the sea, it's rare to get that these days now that they're closing off the shores for the rigging. Such a shame I think." She sighed and glanced to her husband. "Some people are thinking about petitioning to get a stretch of beach saved. Conserved, I think it's called. Wouldn't that be nice, honey?"

"Glorious, dear," Dad replied dismissively. He was still looking at Logan. "That's a point there, son. What's wrong with that flat? You messed it up? Getting kicked out? You better not be moving in here with debt under your cap, mister."

Logan dropped his spoon and rubbed his face with both hands. "I'm not in debt, dad. I just... I just fancied a change that's all. I don't like that flat as much as I thought I would."

_And every time I look out the window I'm sure I can see the sand moving._ He decided not to add that on.

"I remember having holidays on that beach as a child," Mum said whimsically. "Great days they were. No one seems to appreciate the little things like nature anymore. Too concerned with themselves, I reckon."

"Well you better not be lying to me, son," Dad went on. "You know better than anyone I don't house liars and frauds. You're welcome to stay as long as you need but the minute you're late on your rent you're out of here. I don't carry freeloaders. I don't work my hands to the bone just so you can sit on your backside and have it easy. If it hadn't been for your mother I would have had you working as soon as you could lift a hammer."

Mum clicked her tongue. "Don't be ridiculous, honey."

"It's true," Dad went on. "Kids don't know they're born. Get them earning a living early and they'll behave better. I don't raise no freeloaders."

Logan pushed his bowl back and glanced at his watch. Normally he would still be in bed at this time. Day off and he was sitting at the breakfast table at the crack of dawn. "Well I'm going to call around the flat and grab some things." He pushed himself up from his seat and went to leave, not really wanting to go back to the flat but unable to bear the company any longer.

"Uh, wait a second mister," Dad said, pointing at him. "Mind your manners. What do you say to your mother?"

Logan glanced to his mum, who was smiling faintly back at him in expectation. He refrained a sigh and moved towards her, pecking her lightly on the cheek. "Thanks for breakfast, mum."

"You're more than welcome, sweetheart." She beamed back at him. "Make sure you're back in time for lunch, I'm doing fajitas."

"Yeah, sure." Logan muttered, and headed for the door before his parents had a chance to pounce on him with something else.

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Why is it that the thing you're trying to avoid looking at always seems to grow larger and more obvious? Logan desperately tried to work out the mechanics to that question as he hurried down the seafront towards his flat. There were plenty other things he could have kept his gaze entertained with; many other things that normally held his attention quite well. But this morning the only thing his eyes wanted to focus on was the great span of sand that lead down to the blue, froth lined ocean. Even the advertisement billboards that were plastered with images of scantily clad women advertising laxative tablets couldn't hold his twitching eyes.

Right now he wanted to be nowhere else than back sitting at that breakfast table with his work-addicted father and painfully ignorant mother. That was proof that things were bad. Bad was an understatement. Any situation that made a twenty-something year old man terrified of even looking at a beach was terrible. Ridiculous, even.

It was ridiculous. Come on, frigging tentacles sucking fully grown men down underneath the sand? There was no way that could have happened. The sheer physics of it was impossible. Tentacles were usually attached to things, like octopuses, for instance. How the hell did an octopus get underneath the sand so far up the beach? Okay the tide could have washed it up there and buried it, but even then the thing would have either suffocated or dried out. It was impossible. Ridiculous, even.

Obviously the whole thing was just some elaborate prank. Those guys probably knew exactly who he was. Someone had hired them to scare the crap out of him and then terrify him even further and pretend they'd been devoured by some hideous sand monster. There was only one person who had the imagination, time and more importantly _malice_ in their system to do something like that.

Josey Baxter.

"That conniving little..." He didn't allow himself to finish that curse.

Josey Baxter was Logan's younger sister. Well younger by only three minutes. She had always been horrendous for outlandish pranks and insane stunts. When she was five she had constructed a life sized dummy and set it up in the shower simply to scare her mother half to death in the morning. She was more than capable of doing something like this. And more importantly she could easily gather a bunch of terrifying bat wielding guys at the drop of a hat.

Now that he had figured all of this out, his anxiety was now replaced with anger. His quick, frightened footsteps began to turn into purposeful strides. Yet again he had allowed himself to get dragged down by one of his sister's stupid pranks. Why hadn't this occurred to him earlier? What an idiot. She was probably rolling around on her back practically unconscious with laughter. Well there was no way he was going to give her the satisfaction. As soon as he got home he was going to think up of the most evil, humiliating prank that she...

"Hello."

Logan was pulled from his angry thoughts by quite a pleasant voice. He stopped to discover that he was right outside of his building. Those angry strides didn't half get you moving around faster. He also noticed a very strange man standing before him. A man with hair that was practically defying gravity.

"Logan Baxter. Been waiting ages for you." The man held out his hand and grinned a surprisingly broad grin. Only one kind of person grinned at strangers like that. Salesmen.

Logan sighed. "Not for me thanks, whatever you're pushing." He pointed to the half peeled sticker on the window of the door he planned to leave this man through. "See that? Means I don't want anything."

The man peered at the sticker in bemusement, then shook his head. "Oh no, no," he replied, amused. "I'm not selling. Don't have anything to sell anyway. Unless you like, um..." He paused, lowered one eyebrow and reached into his pocket. He produced a small flat disc and then grinned broadly at it. "Pogs! Oh I love Pogs. There's no way I'd sell you my Pogs."

Logan cocked his head in bewilderment. He had no idea what a _Pog_ was. It looked like a circle of card to him. He shrugged, now uninterested in the weird man and wanting nothing else than to get inside and start planning this extravagant prank. "Right, well if that's everything..." He started to move for the door, but the man blocked his path.

"This is yours, am I right?" The man held out something with the hand that had only seconds ago been holding the _Pog_. "Found it a little way down the street. Pretty silly place to leave something like this if you ask me. I keep all my licences in my shoes."

Logan was very surprised to see his driver's licence. He took it and examined it. Yes, there was his gormless mugshot staring back at him. He nodded gratefully to the man. "Thanks. Thanks a lot." Again he turned to the door.

"Uh, just another second."

Logan refrained a sigh. What did this guy want, a medal? If he thought he was going to get something out of returning a driver's licence then he could have it back.

"Can I ask if that was your car out on the beach? Only it's a big peculiar if you've left it there then obviously climbed the wall to get off the beach and leave it behind? Might just be me being overly curious but... What the hell I'm the personification of curious. Doesn't paint me in the greatest light the best of times but..."

Logan blinked, bewildered. "How would you know I climbed over the wall or not?"

"Well considering you obviously drove onto the beach for whatever reason, I'm not one to pry," the man shrugged his thin shoulders and glanced across to the beach. Logan found himself following suit and then quickly turning away again. He wasn't quite ready to look at the beach yet apparently. "Something made you leave that car of yours in a hurry and instead of walking just a little bit further down to get to the stairs you chose to scramble over a seven foot high wall. Bit peculiar, is all."

Logan eyeballed him for a long moment, then slowly felt a grin of his own emerging. He pointed a finger and nodded knowingly. "Ah I get it. Josey sent you, right?"

The man cocked an eyebrow. "Josey?"

"Yeah, to make sure I believe all this crap about bat wielding maniacs and big black tentacles. Well you can go back and tell Josey that I believe it if you want. Anything to keep her thinking I've fell for it-"

The man's eyebrows quickly lowered. "Tentacles?"

"Yup," Logan nodded, now grinning broadly. "And very convincing ones at that. Bravo to whoever put that together. You tell her it worked a treat. I'm going to get her back and I'm going to make sure she never pulls another prank like that on me again, got that?" He clapped his hands in mock admiration. "Very good show, sir."

"No, Logan wait," the man said, desperately trying to get to the door before he did. "Wait a second, I'm not who-"

But this time Logan successfully reached the door. He pulled it open and directed a quick wink to the man. "Piece of advice, mate, don't quit your day job. You're a rubbish actor."

With that, and feeling very satisfied with himself, Logan closed the door behind him, ignoring the man's protests.

Sand monsters. Wow. For a minute there he almost believed it.


End file.
